Hamilton
by LaMontagnarde
Summary: Heinrich and Emma Hamilton never thought their lives would be easy. They knew that their daughter would share their troubles, but they always expected to be there to raise her, even when they knew, in their darker moments, that it might not be.
1. Defected

Defected

"Did you see the article, honey? The elder Dagobert went missing after his vanship had a brief encounter with the Sylvana, it says." Heinrich's voice was matter-of-fact and sounded like he was reading a mere curiosity, but it was obvious what he was implying – Emma would have none of it. Let the man squirm.

"So they killed the poor man, what's it to us? We never even knew his given name, you hardly are in mourning, are you?"

"Don't insult me! I know you're smarter than that. He has defected to the Sylvana, we both know it. And we should go too! This is what the Hamilton family has dreamed of – you're an allied family to ours, you know what we need to do!" So Emma realized that Heinrich was not in a squirmy mood today – she had to finish off this neurotic frenzy before it went any further.

"And I thought you remembered that our daughter is eight years old and we are not raising her on a warship!"

"Honey, we cannot miss this chance! Alex Rowe is taking on the Eraclea power like no one ever has before and if the elder Dagobert trusts him, then I'm fairly certain we can too – "

"And now it comes! You never wanted to destroy the guild's power and actually change things! This is some stupid, centuries-old vendetta against another family! As petty and brainless as Hatfield-McCoy and as tragic as Montague-Capulet."

Heinrich's resolve melted in a spectacular, near-panicked moment. He hadn't heard that line since they decided to have children – this was serious, this was Emma's ultimatum… she wasn't going to allow him to advance at all today. It was already damage control time. Shit.

"You know I want to change things. Why can't I have any emotion about this? You think I'm a purely political beast at this point? Well, I'm not. How can I be? You don't even… screw it." He leaned over a table and looked away, willing himself to shut up and understand her correctness, as he had last time.

"Great. You'd follow a stranger's whims even if it meant destroying your daughter's life. Listen to yourself! When Alvis leaves school we can _begin_ to think about this. You promised. I will not move on this. You want to defect, fine, but you're leaving me and Alvis out of this."

Emma stormed out of the room, and Heinrich purposefully walked over to and sat in the nearest chair. There were stories he could never tell his wife, she'd never understand them. He was a Mysterion Responder. Well, _that_ she knew. But she didn't know what it _meant. _When a family member or noncombative Reciter said a Mysterion with no intent to exercise the power, it was like going under for surgery – nothing at all, you woke a little later disoriented but calm. When a hostile Reciter meant to actually manipulate Exile using you… he had never come up with a good analogy for it. Torture? Seduction? Vertigo? Pure, searing helplessness that makes you know just how useless and small you are? All of those kinda get it right, but miss the mark just a little. And he knew. Oh boy did he know…Once, he was seven at the time, an Eraclea renegade had caught him, tried to win his way back to the Eraclea circle of powerbrokers by showing off his captured Mysterion Responder. Heinrich had had to be rescued by his family en route to Guild HQ, and not everyone in the search party made it back. His aunt, his mother's sister, had been unsuccessfully tortured to give the Hamilton Mysterion to the renegade after she arrived and just barely survived the fighting at all… and then there was Heinrich's father. He was hardly allegiant to the defector families (Heinrich's Hamilton connection was with his mother, whose name he had taken), but that man protected his family, protected his son, even to the point of his own greatest sacrifice. Emma was still a little hazy on the details of her father-in-law's death – she had asked Heinrich, but his hemming and hawing about it having been a "long time ago" had convinced her to let the subject drop.

But now. This was no time to stand still!

Heinrich knew that to wrench the power away from the Eraclea Guild, Alex Rowe, if he was worth as much as Dagobert seemed to think, would have to Recite. He'd have to recite to a Responder, and he would have to manipulate Exile when he did so. Having all four Mysteria recited at once… Heinrich saw the hairs stand up on his arm, and clenched all his muscles to keep from succumbing to a full-body shiver. Four at once might kill someone, or come close. He wanted to take this hit – Hamilton was the only family large enough to have more than one Responder on a regular basis, and Dagobert and Bassianus couldn't be depended upon to have a cooperative one, as far as Heinrich was concerned. And he knew that there were at least two Responders in the Hamilton family. He would pursue this desperately, knowing that if he let it go another generation, the burden would fall on Alvis. If this Sylvana really was the hope of the defected families – if the Guild truly was about to fall and thus eliminate the defectors' hopelessness, their need to hide – then waiting past Heinrich's time would bring this to a head right when Alvis was of age to be the likely Responder of choice.

He would wait until Alvis was out of school and ready to take over the estate. His wife _was _right. But – Heinrich was well aware of the risks inherent in waiting. The recent sudden death of their neighbor, a man several years' Emma's junior, as well as the onset of winter, reinforced the well-known fact that everyone was susceptible to the quirks of fate. How could Heinrich know that he would be around to aid the Sylvana if it meant a decade of waiting? He'd be fifty. Not everyone in Anatoray made it that far.

Especially not people who have Eraclea renegades (and, who knows, perhaps even powerbrokers) looking for them. And he was very alone in this among the Hamiltons, as far as he could help – Alvis' birth had never been announced even to other Hamiltons, as the family in its entirety was going through a reclusive, secretive phase. So the Eracleas would still target him, and not Alvis. She'd be safe, very likely, just a random girl, not old enough to grab anyone's attention, or get in the way if a physical fight broke out. And certainly no one but he and Emma knew that she was a Responder. Ha! Was it really so easy to think about this, then? Time really does heal all wounds. I can think about fighting with the Eracleas, having Alvis there, a whole family affair, like last time. God, he was only forty-four… I'll have to make it past that age by a good few years before I join you, Captain Rowe. Sorry. I meant to help sooner. Well, he thought grimly, we do what we can.

But unless I want the Sylvana to pass us by, I need to make sure that the other Responder of Hamilton knows about it too. I have to tell her, or we're all going to hell in a handbasket, banking on a good but not perfect chance that I'll be around to pick up the slack in ten long years.

"Mommy!" Heinrich heard Alvis' voice from the entry hall, and jumped a good few inches out of his chair. Jesus, speak of the devil. He felt jumpy – it had been years since his last encounter with Eracleas – three, or was it four? – and he felt like some new issue was overdue. Mostly he and Emma had been able to head off the periodic errant Guild hangers-on who had pursued him by employing simple trickery against the foes, but sometimes it was more difficult. He was antsy. Something had to be done. And soon.

"Mommy, I got into a fight today with Miss Griffith!"

"What happened!" Emma sounded amused and concerned at the same time.

"Well, she said that the Hamilton family were defectors but I put her right!" Emma and Heinrich laughed. That was a safe issue, thankfully, since Hamilton was a common name, and thinking that the defector families were extinct or in deep hiding after an expulsion was a popular theory. A cute Hamilton girl saying the defector families were actually forced out of the Guild would arouse no suspicion.

"Honey, now it isn't good to fight with your teachers!" Heinrich walked over and picked up the backpack from the table Alvis had set it on – he then picked up two priceless knickknacks that had been stationed on that table and started juggling. Alvis laughed and Emma sighed. Carefully setting the tiny sculptures down and handing off the backpack to his daughter, Heinrich conceded, "Yes, your mother is right. It is also not good to juggle the table artifacts. Even though it is a lot of fun." He winked at Alvis and she squeaked happily. Then she turned serious (as serious as an elementary-school child can honestly be, at least).

"Mommy, Daddy – Holly got mad at a teacher today too, but I think she was right. It was really bad what the teacher said."

"What did the teacher say?" Emma helped lead her family into the living room as they talked, taking them back to where she and Heinrich had just finished arguing.

"Well, they said that the Mad Thane was stupid and only there to laugh at. They didn't think we could hear them, but we did."

"Honey, you know what we've always told you about this, right?" Emma knew that her daughter had learned this tidbit well – she could recite it backwards by age four. She and Heinrich awaited the response, and like clockwork:

"We support those who bravely defend Anatoray, and all soldiers deserve our respect."

"Yes," Emma intoned calmly, "We do not want to fight about it, even if your friend is related to one of our brave soldiers. Fighting about it profits no one. There will always be people who don't have that respect for our fighting men, but we will."

Heinrich used to wonder how much of this indoctrination Alvis was liable to understand for herself, and now he was worried again. Though, ultimately, the Hamilton family never really was military, couldn't be. The military background checks might pick up on a defector, so staying out of service was a no-brainer for the three outcast dynasties. So did it matter what Alvis thought of the military? Besides her friend Holly, she'd never get remotely close to military people. Even the Sylvana was civilian – technically. Alvis was always smart, Heinrich reminded himself. She knew that this thing she had to say, about respecting the troops, was just a sound bite; she had to know. She'll be able to think for herself, when the time comes for her to need that. She's a smart kid. But…

A few hours later, after Heinrich had smoothed the conversation over with Emma, he went to Alvis' room to see her reading a book from school.

"Hi, honey, you reading something interesting?"

"Yea! See, it's not for class but I'm done with my homework so I am reading it now."

"Oh, wow, a history of the guild, I'm impressed! Any reason in particular you're reading something like this?" Heinrich eased the book, which was clearly many years ahead of Alvis' reading level, out of his daughter's hands and feigned intense interest. He did not plan on returning the book to her before making sure it didn't have propaganda or downright frightening stuff in it.

"Well, someone told me it was good and I might like it."

"Oh! Well, can I take a peek at it, it looks good!"

"Sure, Daddy!"

Heinrich almost left right then, wishing his previous thought of telling Alvis had never even crossed his mind. Why burden her for a contingency plan that was not really likely to be needed? But then he remembered. Because parents in this family don't always get to raise their children. In centuries where the heat is turned up, this percentage is even lower. So she knows something she didn't have to know. It's not nearly as bad as not knowing when one has to know.

"Honey, I have another question for you."

"Aw, daddy, I wanted to keep looking for a show and tell thing for tomorrow!"

"Well, this will only take a little while. Alvis, after you graduate from school – in about ten years – we may all be going aboard a ship for a little while. But, if for whatever reason, your mother and I aren't able to go, you are going to have to do that yourself."

"Ten years!"

"I know it's a long time from now – I'll remind you about it closer to the time, of course, but I like to let you in on plans right at the beginning!"

"Okay!"

"Now, if something were ever to happen to me and your mother, so that we couldn't go to that ship, you need to go into our study, and take this out of the top drawer." Heinrich produced a seven-star vanship scroll from his jacket pocket. "There's also some instructions there for you. Remember that vanship pilot, Ralph, who lives on the main street?"

"Of course daddy – we pass that place every day on the way to school."

"Well, I just want to make sure! This scroll is for him, so if you ever need to take this yourself, remember to go to him."

"Ok! But, daddy – now I have to look for a show and tell thing. Maybe can I take in one of the table things? I'm not sure what they are, but I think people will like them!"

"Ask your mother, Al."

And for three years, Alvis almost completely forgot about that time when her father told her about the ship.


	2. Respect

_Respect_

"Can anyone name the three defected families of the early guild?" The teacher didn't expect anyone to know, but was used to teaching somewhat Socratically. Oh, of course. The little know-it-all Alvis has an idea. How many eleven-year-olds know this? What parents teach their children about the defector families? As far as Miss Hanover was concerned, it wasn't anything small children had any business knowing about, but the curriculum was the curriculum. A little Guild knowledge, to know a bit about how the world worked, was the idea. Save that for later, when they're closer to draft age.

"Yes, Miss Hamilton?"

"Dagobert, Bassianus, and Hamilton."

Wow. Well, maybe a Hamilton… Miss Hanover immediately shut the thought out of her mind – it was the first thought, the only thought an adult could have, upon meeting a Hamilton, but it was patently impossible. _The _Hamiltons were hardly the only ones in the world… there was, in particular, another very prominent business family of Hamiltons in the area, who were not _the _Hamiltons. Alvis was almost definitely one of those. At any rate, Miss Hanover didn't care who was a defector, really.

"Miss Hanover, I just have a question. Why did you say defector families? They didn't defect, they were forced into hiding after nearly being killed off!"

"Ah. Well." This theory. Now it made some sense how much the girl knew, Alvis belonged to one of those hardcore families determined to make that crackpot political theory commonplace. Fucking great.

"Well, Miss Hamilton, you seem to know a lot about this – there's a lot of literature written about it on both sides of the argument, you should check out some of what the library has to offer."

"Okay! I have already, though."

Miss Hanover sighed as she dismissed the students for lunch a few minutes early. How could you honestly dislike a bright eleven-year-old? The whole class was just filled with adorable little rugrats, and that one blasted girl had to just creep her out. She had an odd way about her, like she never particularly connected with anyone. Miss Hanover walked to the faculty lounge, where Mr. John Finley was already a few moments into his comedy routine for the day.

"I swear. To. God. He said that to me."

"Well, I've never met him!" chimed Glenn Powers.

"Let me guess," Hanover interjected, "you're on that Mad Thane crap again!"

"Oh, Tina, you've met him! You know how pompous he is! No one _talks _like this!" Finley kept going, impersonating the mustachioed Admiral in an imagined conversation with himself, switching roles deftly. "_I deeply appreciate the work you do for our nation's children, Mr. Finster. I am sure my daughter agrees. And while you're at it, how about you fellate me?_ Well, sir, I'd love to once you get my name right, Sir Mad Thane. _What did you call me?_ Oh, so sorry your Excellency. I meant no disrespect. _I'm sure you didn't. As you were. _But I'm not a soldier… and so on, and so forth."

"Good lord, John, you love to go on, but I thank you to do that when I am _not_ attempting to drink some water," said Powers, sporting a newly drenched tie.

"Besides, I've never heard him ask for any services of that type. Maybe he's intimidated by gorgeous women," quipped Tina.

"Or just not interested."

"Seriously, John!"

"Holly! Wait up!" cried Alvis. "Wait, what's wrong?" She ran over and grabbed her friend's shoulders, spinning her so they were face to face.

"Al, no… it's nothing."

"It's not about them making fun of your dad again, is it? I know they do that."

"What! Al, no! He's just… he never tells me anything, I don't know what to do – no one ever tells me anything about the war, what if something happens?"

"No one tells anyone our age about the war, you know that."

"But if he is so dumb, how is he an Admiral? Why does everyone want to insult him? Allie, I can't believe them! He's my dad!"

"Please, who do you believe – your dad, or random people who just know him politically?" Alvis loved talking about politics, she'd heard people talking about it and it always sounded fun, so why not bring it into all conversations?

"Oh I guess… but I don't hear that much from him anyway, there's so much more to hear from those stupid political people."

"Yea, well I've heard some fun stuff about my family, and I can't even admit that it is my family."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Allie… you're crazy."

"Sure, I am!"

They didn't really talk much the rest of the day, and Alvis went home hoping to just forget about the whole family idea. There were too many issues going on, maybe she'd have to wait a bit before getting back to Holly… she arrived at home to find the house fairly quiet.

"Guita! Guita? Oh, right… she's not coming by until tomorrow." Alvis walked into the kitchen, and quickly closed the door, almost reflexively, in a near panic.

"Why? Why? What do I do now? _What do I do now!_" Alvis walked to the desk of the study and picked up the scroll and paper. Through some twist of fate she managed to remember that day three years ago, as well as that one time last summer when her father had glancingly mentioned something like this to Guita. Then, instead of reading the paper in the drawer, she simply curled up on the floor, and waited.

"Guita… Guita!"


	3. The Final Pursuit

_The Final Pursuit_

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to need to head out until tomorrow, the boss said there was a bit of a snafu, so I'm going to be able to – excuse me, sir?" A strange man caught his eye as he lazily sauntered through the kitchen, and he was brought to a stop by the intruder.

Heinrich knew almost immediately what the man was. It was another one, an Eraclea. He seemed familiar, perhaps this one had followed him around, becoming a familiar face at some grocery store or restaurant before zoning in for the attack. Good god, it was only a year since the last one, and now one of them managed to get into the house without him noticing? It took all his restraint not to physically remove the man immediately.

"Mister Heinrich Hamilton, son of the late Gerhardt Shonman. I advise you to come with me."

"Great news all around about the trip being postponed, I want you to take a look at – " Emma entered the room to see Heinrich looking at her with a dead serious expression, and a stranger in the other doorway. A moment later, a second stranger walked to close off the doorway by Emma. Emma mimicked Heinrich's silence, and sized up the room.

"Why should I go with you?" Heinrich broke the tension.

"You're one of the last defector families' Responders, of course."

"That's absurd! I'm a Hamilton of the business family, well known around here, do you think I'd be so idiotic to keep a dangerous lineage's name if it was true? I don't have a death wish! If you keep up this charade, I will have to notify the authorities about harassment. I don't wish to be lumped in with those fringers, if they're even still alive."

"You didn't ask what a Responder is?"

"I don't care!"

"You're son of the late Shonman, anyway, I know it. Would you care to know that the man whose actions killed him finally met the same fate? I killed the rebel myself. Idiot thought he could steal the Eraclea Mysterion and get away with it – but you know that he had the Mysterion, of course. He bragged about using it to torture you, thought that could win him his life. It couldn't, but his information was deliciously helpful. By tracking down his trail, once thought long cold, I found you. The pieces were there for any sufficiently intelligent human to pick up. Gerhardt. The strikingly non-military family. The small family. The pride forcing you to keep the name. Eventually, no matter how often you moved or what identity concealment measures you took, we were going to find you." The two men stayed fixed at their posts, clearly plotting their move into the center of the room, keeping in mind any escape that the two would try to make.

"Stop harassing him, just because of the name! My god, you're all insane. We've heard this before. How exactly do you think we could have survived if we were so obvious about being those crooks?" Emma started to go about business as usual, putting some now-dry dishes away so that Guita wouldn't have to see to them and instead could spend more time with Alvis when she came by the next day. Emma wasn't afraid, and was eager to demonstrate to the goons that she honestly barely cared. They had a response though, one that wasn't to bode well.

"Oh! How did you survive if it was so easy to find you? Well, I must have made it sound easy, I guess. It wasn't – you two are much smarter than a typical Eraclea moron, I'll tell you that. The outsiders are buffoons. I'm much closer to the top of the hierarchy. My name actually _is _Eraclea, for one thing. I know as well as you how hard you tried to make any record impossible to track. It took years to get to you, and for that I applaud you. Oh! It also wasn't all your skill – I needed to hit up another of your family members before I got here, and she was much more difficult to track down. Heinrich, Erna says hi. And, sorry for your loss sir. Our persuasion tactics didn't quite treat her as well as we had hoped to. Well, we needed our information."

"You son of a bitch." Heinrich set his jaw firmly, trying to speak, _think,_ without breaking down. _Erna. The family genius. One of the merely two deemed worthy of having the Recitation power in our generation. So intelligent it took years for the authorities to track her, god only knows how they did it. They got to her. They took the Mysterion from her. Dear god, she never even met Alvis, never knew she had a niece. What a world this is. What did we do to deserve this? Erna, who I haven't seen since she left to go underground… why did you leave us? That last goodbye was really it? My oldest sister, gone. The girl… god I still know her as a girl. What has happened to us?_

"If you do not leave, I will notify the authorities. I warned you before, I'm warning you again, I will not hesitate to defend our home from you." Heinrich opened the knife drawer and took out a particularly menacing-looking piece of cutlery, and considering what he had just been told, he also unsheathed quite a bit of desire to use the weapon.

"Impressive. How's that going to hold up against a military-grade pistol, I wonder?" quipped the attacker by Emma, speaking for the first time. He aimed directly for Heinrich's head, and made it clear to all in the room that he was doing so.

"What do you want from me?"

"We want you to come with us. You know the Eraclea's little predicament."

"You'll have to kill me first." This got a rise out of Emma, though she stopped herself short of vocal acknowledgement of his comment.

"Boss?" Emma's guard spoke again.

"Yes?"

"I'll hold back this one, if you're ready for the verification? If you don't mind, I'd like to get back home at a reasonable hour tonight, once we're done this day will bear some celebration, I think."

"Good idea!" the other one responded, giving the affirmation his sidekick needed. Emma's guard, in a stunning display of agility, lowered his weapon and then seemed to incapacitate Emma in one sweeping motion, pinning her arms and bracing much of her frame against his own so she could barely move. She struggled violently, but the man was a professional – didn't give an inch in any direction. Heinrich immediately started across the room, this was too much indignity to leave to mere talk. But he was halted by the start of a poem whose lines he'd never hear. How unfair that you can't actually hear the Mysteria if you're a Responder, he had always thought. But now, he was frozen, incapable of thought, at least productive thought. Emma's jaw dropped as she watched him freeze in place, helpless to counter the sneering Eraclea's Recitation. 

"Well, a successful run. I'm sure we'll have another one before her Ladyship later tonight. Then, I assure you, we'll celebrate. Not as much as when we finally get those other two poems and use this guy to blast the opposition out of the sky!"

Heinrich had a moment of clarity. He saw what his life would be, if he went with them. He knew that neither he nor Emma could turn the tide of the fight, as it stood. He verified with the captors –

"Sir. That will be my life, then. Responding for you until the wars are over, and victory is yours?"

"Starting today and ending with the great Judgment of Prestor." The captor seemed happy that Heinrich was resigned. _Oh, trust me that neither of us will be happy in a moment, _thought the wretched Hamilton. He gripped the knife that had never left his hand with as much strength as he could muster. It wasn't a lot. He shook the utensil a bit to prove to himself that he could manipulate it at all. Then, after a deep breath –

"No!" Emma's cry was sharp and high pitched. It was louder than any sound Heinrich made, he was remarkably quiet about death. A moment later, he and the knife fell to the ground. Emma fought her captor again, trying viciously to get to Heinrich, see if any life remained. She felt, just for a moment, that if she could get to him quickly enough, she could halt that expanse of red across the floor. She had helped him when he was hurt before, and he had helped her. It was the job of a spouse. She could not be denied this last thing she could do. His eyes were grotesquely open, she needed to close them. It was downright disrespectful to leave him so… surprised.

"Boss, you were right!" The man holding Emma noticed something. "The ring, it's got ER and HH on it – she's a Reichner all right, that's their seal on this ring around the letters!"

"Well, well. _The _Emma Reichner. Let her go for a moment, she's just as important as her hubby here. Of course now that he's gone we have no choice but to take her instead." Emma was dropped to the floor. She bowed her head less out of reverence than shame for her tears. "We want you alive, darling, don't be afraid of us. We know that you're the daughter of Gustav Reichner, the late great keeper of so much information a spy like me couldn't refrain from drooling just thinking about it."

Emma, in a calculated decision of near-military precision, launched herself at ground level towards her husband. What use was it to listen to this man proudly trumpet how much work he had done to find her and how much he knew? She had to pay her last respects to Heinrich before these barbarians took her.

Neither man seemed particularly inclined to separate the distraught woman from the husband – both were still baffled by the death of their target and weren't sure if they could have the triumphal return they so wanted. This hesitation caused them to let this go – a dire mistake.

Emma kissed her husband for the last time, and closed his eyes. That made her feel slightly better, she wiped the tears off her face and started to think calmly. Alvis. What about Alvis? How could she ever tell Alvis? That's it, she realized. I have to be around for her. I will fight these monsters tooth and nail. But mostly, I have a knife. Despite her abject horror at using Heinrich's suicide knife, she decided it was the only way. She grabbed the weapon in Heinrich's chest and swiftly pulled it into a sharp, dexterous grip. Almost immediately after fixing the knife in her hand, she plunged it into her attacker, before he had even reached for his gun again – after all, what use was a gun on a person you'd never intended to kill? Her attacker slumped to the floor, groaning and muttering in shock. Then she turned on Heinrich's tormentor. The man wasn't armed, his sidekick had been the one who knew how to really use weapons, anyway. Emma and the attacker froze in locked eye contact, both sizing each other up with terror. She stood slowly, keeping her eyes on the man, and froze again.

"Now, I will have you know that you have murdered your last Defector."

"You insult me, Reichner. And I have the utmost respect for you; you're hardly being charitable."

Emma hurled the knife into the man's chest, and turned to get the hell out. She met her own attacker's eyes – he was still alive. She panicked and took just a moment too long to complete her fight or flight response. The man's final moments allowed him to fire off one last, perfect, shot.


End file.
